Confronting Old Demons
by black-rose495
Summary: Ivy Amell has returned to the Circle of Magi and has unresolved business with a certain Templar. But when she confronts him, things don't quite go as she'd hoped they would. Or do they...? Set just after the events at the Circle of Magi. NSFW


**_This one-shot is dedicated to my lovely boyfriend who made the mistake of jokingly asking why I hadn't written a a Cullen story yet, given how much I've been fangirling over him lately after the announcement that he will be romancable in DA:I. So Luke, this is for you ;) _**

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Maker, he was going to burn for all eternity for this. He knew he was. How could he not? He should never have allowed himself to think about her that way and he had paid the price for that. And now she, the woman of his dreams and nightmares, was back in the Circle Tower.

"Cullen? Can I have a word please?"

He blinked, refocusing his eyes, and stared at the mage in front of him. Ivy Amell. Maker, she was stunning. He'd dreamt about her every night since she had been brought to the Circle all those years ago. He'd spent many a time staring into those sapphire blue eyes, losing himself in them, then blushing madly when he was caught daydreaming. And now those same blue eyes were staring at him again, waiting for an answer.

"Of course Grey Warden," he stammered, cursing internally that he was still acting like a school-boy around her.

Ivy placed a hand on his forearm, his skin tingling despite his heavy platemail. "Oh Cullen, no need to be so formal. We know each other," she said, an amused tone in her voice. He was always so formal, so controlled. She'd suspected for a while he'd liked her, but thought nothing of it, putting it down to her over-active imagination and malicious rumours spread by a jealous Jowan. That was until her Harrowing, when the Templar let slip his concern for her. Confident, she had flirted with him, but the man had gone running like a little boy, blushing and stammering like an innocent virgin. After the Grey Warden Duncan had taken her from the Tower, she thought she would never see him again, the man she could never have.

And yet here she was, face to face with him, looking at that same, confused gaze that seemed to be lost somewhere in the Fade.

The Templar nodded at her, "Of course…Ivy."

She gestured to the stairs, signalling for him to accompany her on a walk through the Tower, and after a moment's hesitation, he followed. They climbed the stairs in silence. Cullen waited for Ivy to speak; it was she who wanted to talk, so she would have to begin their conversation. Ivy had no idea how to broach her topic and spent their silence trying to figure it out. As they reached the second floor of the Tower she finally spoke.

"So…about this Desire Demon you mentioned. You know, the one that you said tormented you day and night…"

Cullen shot her a sideways glance, already regretting agreeing to walk with her. "Yes…?" he asked, dreading where this was going.

"I'd say 'was it true', but I'm a mage, I know it was true. Desire Demons read your inner most desires, the ones we daren't admit to anyone, not even ourselves, and tempt you with a way of attaining them. I have to say, bravo Cullen, on resisting temptation and all. Really, many men would give in," she said, a faint smile on her lips. "A few of your fellows already had actually. I had to kill them unfortunately. Sorry about that," she added offhandedly. She'd never really cared for a lot of the Templars, the majority of them being brutes who enjoying tormenting vulnerable people. At least that's what the majority of the ones she'd known were like. But not Cullen.

"No need to apologise. If they gave in to the Demons, then they were weak and deserved their fate," he replied, trying to ignore her comments about the Desire Demon. _Please, let me be. _

Ivy rolled her eyes dramatically and sighed heavily, "Cullen Cullen Cullen. Must you continue spouting this Templar nonsense at me? Have you forgotten I'm a mage? I hear this stuff all the time so could you _please_ talk about something else?"

The Templar stopped walking and stared at her. "Like what? What else could we talk about? It is the only thing that we have that links us together in any way." He stopped talking then, realising he'd let his mouth speak before his brain could catch up.

Ivy returned his stare with barely concealed surprise, taken aback by his sudden – but short – outburst. "I don't know. Like…how you quite clearly feel something for me?" Cullen began stammering an excuse to leave, but Ivy interrupted him, "No. No more avoiding this. You ran away last time I tried to bring this up, but not this time. I am making a stand."

Cullen sighed. He feared this would happen eventually. "I – I don't know what you want me to say Ivy," he said quietly, his head bowed.

A hand on his cheek made him lift his face. He was greeted by those welcoming blue eyes again, his heart swelling at the mage's closeness to him. "I just want to know if you feel for me what I feel for you." She looked at him then, searching his face for any trace of betraying emotions. She found what she was looking for: he seemed torn internally, fighting his desires and his duty. Deciding to seize the opportunity, she placed her hand on his other cheek, cradling his face between her hands, pulled him down to her and kissed him.

He remained unresponsive at first, taken aback by her boldness. Then slowly, he let himself relax into the kiss. He was amazed at how soft her lips felt against his, how smooth her skin was against his stubble. It was better than he'd dreamed of, and yet despite this his mind was uneasy. He pulled away reluctantly. Ivy stared up at him, reading his face, trying to make out what was going through his mind.

"Cullen…" she whispered, keeping hold of his face. He was still torn, she could tell. "For once in your life, _forget_ about duty and do something _you want to do_."

Despite her pleas, the Templar did nothing but close his eyes and stand still. "You don't know what you ask Ivy," he said quietly, wishing she could just leave him in peace for once in his life. "Please…I can't."

Ivy removed her hands from his face, a sad look in her eyes, and stepped back from Cullen. "Fine," she said dejectedly, "I won't bother you anymore ser Templar. I'll see myself out. I know the way."

She refused to look at the Templar as she walked away. She couldn't have her heart broken, not now. She had the Blight to contend with and dealing with a silly crush was the last thing she needed on top of that.

She wandered back down through the tower, finding herself in the mage's quarters. She walked through the empty halls, saddened at the sight of her fellow mages lying dead on the floor. _So many good mages…all dead. _She quickly left the mage's quarters, not wanting to linger there, and made her way out of the tower. As she travelled down each floor she secretly hoped she would hear Cullen call after her and beg her to stay. But he never did. When she reached the entrance of the tower her companions were stood waiting for her, chatting with Wynne. If any of them noticed the dejected look on her face they didn't say anything.

"Come on. Let's head back across the lake," she said heading for the door, not looking to see if they were following or not.

The boat ride across the lake was a silent one, Ivy having no interest in talking to anyone, despite their probing. It was blatantly obvious that whatever Ivy had disappeared to go and do had not gone to plan, and she was now brooding over it. When they docked at Lake Calenhad the mage headed straight to the Spoiled Princess to meet back up with the rest of their companions, Wynne, Alistair and Leliana trailing after her.

When all of them were gathered again she announced, "We may as well stay here for the night. I don't know about you guys, but I'm shattered and would benefit from a night's sleep in a bed, not on the cold, hard, ground."

"Already taken care of my dear Warden," chimed Zevran. "We figured you'd say that so we've already sorted out the rooms and asked the barkeep to bring a round of drinks when you came back." Right on cue, a barmaid brought over a tray of mugs, each one full to the brim with ale. The mage smiled at the elf as she grabbed a mug from the tray and drank heavily from it, sighing with contentment when she was done.

They spent most of the night in the tavern, drinking and singing loudly. To everyone bar Ivy's surprise, they discovered that Wynne could drink a_ lot _of ale, the mage having had seven pints of the stuff before it seemed to have any effect on her at all. It seemed both women were drinking to forget that night, the horrors of the Tower hitting home with them both. Sure Ivy had never really liked the place, but for the majority of her life it had been her home.

After a few hours the group slowly began disappearing to their rooms: first Sten and Morrigan, neither one in the mood for joviality; next was Alistair and Wynne, both of them tired from the fighting in the Tower. Zevran and Leliana lingered a while, as if waiting to see what the mage was going to do. Ever since he had joined their party the assassin had been hitting on Ivy, trying to worm his way into her bed. Not that she was having any of it. As she repeatedly told him, "Sorry Zevran, I like men who are taller than me."

A cold breeze ran down her neck as the door to the inn opened and someone walked in. Zevran's eyes widened as he took in the stranger, the elf visibly drooling over him. The two women turned around to see what all the fuss was about. Ivy froze.

"Cullen…" she whispered. As if responding to his name, the Templar turned around, looking where the innkeeper was pointing: right at her. The two rogues looked at her expectantly as well, but she shook her head at them and stood to greet Cullen, wobbling slightly from the ale.

"Ivy, can we talk?" he asked quietly. Behind them the two rogues made childish noises. Ivy silently nodded her consent to the Templar, then turned around and hissed at the bard and assassin to say nothing. They mimed a zipping motion over their lips, then resumed their teasing when her back was turned.

Ivy sighed dramatically, then motioned for the Templar to follow her upstairs, where they went to the only private place in the inn: her room. The two of them fidgeted awkwardly as they noticed their sudden close proximity, a blush already starting to spread across Cullen's cheeks.

_Maker, why am I here? _

"So," she said, wringing her hands nervously, "you wanted to talk. So…talk."

Cullen scratched his head. Maker, his cheeks felt like they were on fire. Why was this so difficult? He'd spent many a night dreaming about this moment, yet here he was, still blushing like a scared little boy. "I err…well I just – Maker, is it hot in here?" he stammered, pulling at the top of his platemail until he realised stupidly that it was metal and wouldn't move.

Ivy sighed. She was sick of this. He kept doing this to her and she honestly couldn't take it anymore. "Look Cullen, I'm tired. In case you weren't paying attention, I've had a pretty crazy day. So if you're going to do this again then please leave because I am sick and tired of – "

She was silenced midsentence by a set of lips mashing against hers, willing her to open up. She felt herself relax against them, relishing in their bitter-sweet taste, like lyrium and sweat and honey all mixed together in a heady blend. A moan slipped from her lips. It vibrated between them, causing shivers of pleasure to trail down both of their spines. Somehow, something in the back of Ivy's mind made her see sense and she pushed gently but persistently against Cullen's chestplate, making him move away. The Templar looked at her, dazed and confused, silently asking what was going on.

"No. Not again. I want a real answer, not…this," she said, waving her hand between the two of them, "So either talk or leave." She crossed her arms, trying to seem bold and pissed off, but she feared it just made her seem tired and cranky – which in all fairness, she was.

Cullen sighed, resigned, "Fine. I – I don't really know what to say though. I am bound to my duty as a Templar, you know this Ivy. But…I have longed for you ever since I laid eyes on you, despite my vows." He watched her face as he spoke, reading her reactions. "I am only human Ivy and I cannot resist temptation forever - the fact I have done so for so long is a miracle. But I am tired of fighting my desires. If you want me Ivy, I am yours."

Ivy regarded him with a guarded expression. Did she believe him? Her heart was screaming at her to fling herself at him and rejoice at his confession, but her sanity held her back. He'd broken her heart many times over the years, giving her false hope and then snatching it away. Could she let him do it again?

After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke. "Cullen…you know I want to believe you. You know how much I've _longed_ for you, yet time and time again you ran with your tail between your legs like a coward. I can't put myself through that again, I just can't." When she was done, she bowed her head, defeated. _This is definitely not how I envisioned my day. _

Ivy felt a trickle roll down her cheek and wiped it curiously, cursing quietly when she realised it was a tear. A metal hand reached out and took hers as gently as it could. She looked up and saw Cullen staring at her, worry etched on his face, his eyes full of love. "Ivy…I'm not going to run away. I wouldn't have come here otherwise," he pleaded quietly, his voice full of sincerity.

The mage placed her other hand over the Templar's gauntlet-clad one, which still held hers, and pulled at the metal until his gauntlet came off. She threw the armour on the floor and held his bare hand between hers, turning it over and examining it, amazed by how different it was to hers. Her hands were tiny, dainty things with soft skin that were weak and yet so incredibly strong at the same time, immense power crackling at her fingertips at the slightest command. His were large, strong things with rough, calloused skin that knew how to wield the strongest of weapons, yet be gentle and delicate when they needed to be.

Ivy placed Cullen's bare hand against her cheek and sighed. "It's amazing," she breathed, "It feels so real. The Fade is being surprisingly kind tonight."

Cullen placed his other hand on her cheek and held her gaze. "This is no dream Ivy! You are not in the Fade and I am truly here," he said, trying not to shout in frustration. Here he was, confessing his feelings for her, and she was convinced it was a dream. _Wouldn't you be? _he thought, _She's probably spent just as many nights as you have longing for someone she couldn't have, and now it's being offered to her, she's convinced she's still dreaming. _

She blinked at his words, trying to wake herself, and almost jumped in surprise when she discovered she was indeed awake and not in the Fade. She gasped quietly at the revelation, unsure on how to proceed. In her dreams it was usually more direct: they flirt a little, they sneak off, then they have wild passionate sex. Or sometimes Cullen would loudly declare his love for her in front of all the Templars, sweep her off her feet, and carry her away from the Circle Tower forever. But this was neither of those scenarios and she had no idea how to proceed.

Ivy racked her brains, trying to think of something to say, and cursed herself mentally when all that came out was, "Would you like a drink?"

Cullen looked at her incredulously and asked, "A drink? Why would I want a drink?"

"I don't know," sighed Ivy, removing his hands from her face. She had no idea what she was doing. It had been so much easier in the Tower. "I…Maker, why is this so _complicated_?" she asked, throwing her hands up in the air.

Cullen grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her closer to him. "It doesn't have to be," he said, pulling her to him and kissing her. This time they both gave in, relaxing into the other's hold. Ivy's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling herself up to him. His own arms wound around her torso, holding her against him until he realised he still had his armour on. They both pulled back, silently removing his armour, unbuckling the bulky platemail until it fell to the floor with a loud clang.

Even through his cotton shirt and trousers, Ivy could see the barely concealed muscles beneath, her hands itching to reach out and touch them. She saw a set of hands trailing over his biceps, his chest and realised with a start they were hers. _Maker, he feels wonderful! _she thought, _and he's still clothed! Oh, what about without them…_ A pang of lust shot straight to her groin, her excitement and arousal mingling together and flushing her cheeks. Her hands trailed over his pectorals to the top of his shirt, tugging at it, eager to see and feel more of him.

Cullen's hands stilled hers. She pouted childishly at him in protest, but her pout quickly turned into a grin when he said, "Only if I can see you too." She happily obliged, guiding his hands to the clasps on the back of her robe, her own hands then resuming their task. Their clothes quickly fell to the floor and soon the two of them were making their way to the bed, stumbling over each other as they kissed and embraced one another, falling onto the bed in a pile of limbs.

They laid in each other's arms, kissing each other leisurely and exploring one another's bodies with their hands, fascinated whenever their hands found a new area of skin that sent tingles through their fingers. Ivy's hands trailed over his arms, his chest, his back, amazed by the corded muscles she found there, the layer of sweat on his skin. Cullen's eyes closed under her touch, his own hands stilling every now and again, still slightly hesitant. She was wonderful, her hands like fire wherever she touched, leaving burning trails over his skin, shooting straight to his crotch. The more she touched, the more the fire inside of him grew, first only a tiny flame, then growing into a roaring furnace. His hands were all over her then, squeezing and grabbing, spreading the fire between them.

The Templar rolled on top of her, kissing her urgently, his trouser clad crotch grinding unconsciously against her. They both moaned their approval, Ivy's hips rising to meet his eagerly, the both of them wanting more. She moaned his name into his lips, begging him for something, _anything_. Cullen ignored her pleas, revelling in the pleasure radiating from his groin, from where his skin met hers. She begged again, no longer caring how pitiful she sounded. He mumbled a response, saying how good it felt, how he never wanted it to end.

Without knowing how she got there, Cullen found himself underneath Ivy, her hips above his, looking down at him through hooded eyes. Maker she was stunning like that: her blonde hair, normally so neat, was dishevelled from their embraces; her normally bright blue eyes were darkened with lust; her unusually coloured cheeks and lips, normally a blue/purple, were flushed red. He reached up from underneath her and undid the tie in her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders in a blonde cascade. She blushed – somehow – at his action and looked away for a second, the act feeling tender and intimate. When she looked back, she ground her hips against his, punctuating her words with a gyration. "Cullen," she said hungrily, "I. Want. You. To. _Fuck. Me_." She leaned forward and licked a trail up his chest, moaning at his heady taste, like lyrium and sweat mixed together. The Templar groaned under her touch, his hands instinctively reaching out for her and grabbing her hips, anchoring himself to her lest he float away due to the immense pleasure he was feeling.

_Maker, why would I ever give this up? You're a fool, Cullen. _

He pushed the mage off him easily, surprised by how light she was, and stood proudly next to the bed. Making sure she was watching, he pulled off his trousers, taking his smalls with them, and smirked at the look of both lust and fear on Ivy's face.

_Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks, how is _that_ supposed to fit in me?! _She swallowed down her fears, deciding to worry about that later. Instead she made a show of removing her breastband, smug when Cullen's eyes watched, transfixed. She sat up to remove her smallclothes, then gasped in surprise when Cullen grabbed her ankle, dragged her so she was facing him, and removed them himself, pulling them down over her legs and throwing them off into the corner of the room.

Somehow he managed to surprise her twice in the space of a minute. Instead of climbing back onto the bed with her, Cullen knelt down, pulling her closer to him, and bowed his head. Ivy sat up on her elbows, watching curiously as the Templar kissed up her legs, until he reached her centre. He held her gaze as he made a show of trailing his tongue over her core, her head falling back with as gasp, his own eyes closing at her taste. Cullen explored curiously, acting completely on instinct, making sure to repeat actions which made her moan his name and beg for more.

Every now and again she would look up, somehow managing to find the strength to lift her head, and stared amazed at the man between her legs, wondering why he was doing this. Any questions left her head as a new sensation from her core distracted her. She tried to watch to see what Cullen was doing, but another press sent sparks shooting through her. He kept pressing, reaching inside of her, making the sparks grow until her vision, and body, exploded, causing her to momentarily stiffen before collapsing onto the bed.

Ivy tried to sit up, but found her legs had decided to turn to rubber and slumped back onto the bed in an unflattering manner. Cullen chuckled at the sight and helped her further onto the bed, keeping hold of her legs, which he slung one of over his shoulder, opening her up for him again. She grabbed his biceps, urging him up to her, and pulled him into a sizzling kiss which fanned the flames of their desire even more.

Cullen hovered over her hips, trying to hold onto what control he had left, resisting the urge to completely give in to desire. Ivy nodded her consent to him and his control snapped. At last he thrust into her, his head bowing at the sensation of how tight and warm she was. How long had it been since he had been in a woman? It felt so natural, so right, so _good_. Ivy breathed Cullen's name, bringing him back to the room and urging him to move. He happily obliged, moving tentatively at first, then becoming bolder when he realised he wasn't causing Ivy any pain, only pleasure.

This felt so different from the quick trysts in the Circle. There you would sneak out in the small hours of the morning, meet with someone, fuck in a dark corner, then leave. But this was nothing like that. It was open, intimate, dare she say…loving? Yes, she did. There was love and adoration in the way he looked at her, the way he made sure she was fine before moving properly inside of her. There was tenderness in each touch and caress of her skin. The shock of it all swelled her heart until it grew so big she thought it might explode out of her chest. Sure, she knew the Templar had feelings for her, but this…it was almost too much to bare.

His thrusts became powerful, purposeful, each one hitting further inside of the mage, making her toes curl and her hands grasp at his biceps, clutching onto him like her life depended on it. With each thrust it became harder and harder to hold onto his control, but he refused to finish yet, not with how good this felt, how good _she _felt. With each fight for control, his thrusts became more and more erratic, his desire winning over his control. He saw the beauty beneath him stiffen, her grip on his muscles tightening, his name escaping her lips breathlessly. Maker, he didn't think it possible, but somehow, flushed and sweaty, her eyes foggy and unfocused, she was even more breathtakingly beautiful. The sight of her like that sent him over the edge, his own release branding her insides, marking her as his.

When the two of them regained their breath a little, they crawled to the top of the bed and laid under the covers. Ivy rested her head on Cullen's chest and sighed contently, his arms wrapped around her protectively. Neither of them spoke for a while, neither one feeling the need to say anything, just lay there any enjoy the feel of the other against their skin.

After a while, a nagging question returning to Ivy's now clear mind. "Say," she began, "what was that thing you did before we… You know, that thing you did with your mouth?"

Cullen looked at her confused, "What, you've never had anyone do that for you before?" In truth, he didn't really know what one would call it either. He had done it on instinct, only knowing that he wanted to, _had_ to taste her, letting his gut and ears guide him.

Ivy looked up at him, biting her lip. "What? What's wrong?" he asked. A light turned on in his head, "Oh, let me guess. Mage business?" She nodded and he sighed, understanding. "Ivy, I am not a Templar right not. I am simply a man. Please, talk to me."

After a few more seconds chewing her lip, Ivy seemed content with his words. "Things were different in the Circle," she said. "If anyone got together it was only a quick fuck in the dark, nothing more. It helped sate some of our cravings, but more often than not we just had to deal with matters ourselves, if you get my meaning." Her eyes darkened briefly, "Or, of course, there's the select, unlucky few who had a pig with power force themselves onto them." Cullen opened his mouth to ask the question he didn't want to ask, but Ivy cut him off, "Don't worry, I never had that happen to me. Luckily." She pressed her head back against his chest, "But enough talk of such things. I do not wish to discuss my life in the Circle."

Cullen nodded, more for himself than Ivy, and stroked her hair comfortingly. It sickened him to have it confirmed that men of the Order did that to innocent mages. He pushed the thought out of his mind and concentrated on the woman in his arms: the heat radiating from her; the softness of her skin; the faint smell of lavender coming from her hair. Maker, if this was heaven then he never wanted to leave. But both of them knew that all too soon morning would come and they would have to go their separate ways, to their own duties.

After they had cleaned up, Cullen rummaged in the skirts of his armour and pulled out a wrapped bundle. Ivy looked at it curiously, watching as he unwrapped it with care. "I brought you something – don't ask how I got it, you don't need to know. Just…accept it, please, as a gift," he held out the bundle, its ties gone, but the cloth still covering it.

Ivy took it and removed the cloth, gasping when she saw what he was giving her. "I – this is impossible. How did you – "

The Templar cut her off with a kiss, "Don't ask."

She held out the gift in her hand, her fingers wrapped tightly around the fragile glass vial. "But this is my phylactery! You don't just _get _these," she nearly shouted. She was so confused. The realisation of what this meant hit her like an ogre ramming into her. She slumped onto the bed and held the tiny vial to her chest. "I have my phylactery…" She pulled the Templar to her and kissed him hard, not sure how else to express her gratitude.

When they parted Cullen held her hands in his and looked into her eyes, "It's yours to keep Ivy. Or destroy. It's yours to do with as you wish."

"I don't know what to say…" breathed Ivy, still taken aback by his act of kindness. "I have to…here," she said, undoing the tie on her amulet, "for you." She placed the amulet in his hands and closed them around it, making him take it from her.

He sighed, "You don't have to." He opened his hand and looked at the amulet inside, it's red stone seeming liquid, as if made of blood. On the back of it was a griffon, like the one the Grey Warden's wore.

When he did nothing but hold it, Ivy took it from his hands and tied it around his neck, frowning at how short it seemed around his muscly throat. "I know," she said as she tied, "but I want to, so you have something to remember me by." Cullen turned his head to look at her, love and sorrow in his eyes, and kissed her, pulling her back down to the bed.

They slept soundly that night, both of them unable to remember such a good night's sleep without nightmares or demons. In the morning they said little, neither one wanting to say what they both knew: they had to go their separate ways now. They dressed reluctantly, Ivy putting on her mage robes, Cullen putting on his Templar armour. But eventually, all too soon came the point where they had to admit that they had to part ways.

"I, er, guess this is goodbye then," said Cullen sadly. He held out his hand for the mage, trying to make their separation as easy as possible.

She stared at his hand like it was a Genlock and batted it away, hugging him as tightly as his armour would allow instead. "I love you Cullen," she said quietly, trying to hold back her tears. She would cry later, in the privacy of her tent.

He squeezed her back, unwilling to let go. "And I love you Ivy," he said, giving in and saying the words he had been aching to say for years.

He returned to the Tower after that, Ivy watching the small boat travel across the lake from the window of her room. When he was out of sight, she gathered her belongings and went downstairs to meet up with her companions. She was greeted by a sea of questioning looks and knowing smirks. Before anyone could speak she held up a hand to silence them. "Let's just get one thing straight. No one is to ask me _anything_ about last night. Got it?" she asked, her face hard.

Zevran and Leliana smirked at each other, biting their tongues. Ivy sighed, seeing their smirks. _They're never going to leave me be, are they? _


End file.
